The Wistful Campus
The ink on the ledger was still wet, bleeding into the cheap paper as my hand shook, a tremor that started in the shoulder and ended in the fingertip, where I held the pen like a broken bone. I was not looking at the numbers, which were a lie anyway, for the silk had been seized at the border three days prior, leaving me with nothing but the memory of the weight it once held in my bales. The...
0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 1 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση